Immortal….by Iheanyi Idimogu

Immortality is one subject I don’t like to discuss because people understand it differently.

However, I’m certain, that that moment when the one person who is the princess/prince of your dreams first smiles at you and introduces themselves to you – that moment is truly unforgettable. 😇😍💖💗

This is captured in today’s poem by my friend Iheanyi Idimogu.

Iheanyi is a Lagos – based lawyer. He loves to write. I’m seeing here, too, that he’s quite the incurable romantic. ☺

Enjoy.

Immortal
When the last page is done
and the great Book closed
men shall sigh and recount histories
 
Kings that held the breath of men
and queens who sauntered in beauty
of artistes that immortalized lives
and viziers swaying between the lines of genius and madness
 
Somewhere without the gild of these marbles
a line or none may tell of you
and another or none for me
 
But cast in purest beauty
is the hour you smiled at me
and told me who you were
 

Pretense Sleep

A little birdling’s cheep
Is oft the “nudge” I need
To wake me up at morn
And leave my bed forlorn

Beep goes my clock. Beep. Beep.
The snooze button I hit
For, yes, pretend I must
In  deep, long sleep to be

I tiptoe to the door
A peep at you to steal
I see you gulp your coffee
Watch you head out the door

My own relief I hear
A sigh escapes my mouth
You always want to say your piece
Than nurture us some peace

A nagging wife, who can find?
Her trouble’s far from rubies
Her husband’s heart at her doth flinch
He’ll have no lack of pain.

Missed Opportunities

Her eyes brushed through each delicate finger on her left hand and settled on the ring finger. It was clad in the most beautiful adornment she had ever seen. She smiled. How unbelievable can life get?

On this day last year, she was broke, jobless, deserted and distraught. She had missed her flight to a job interview, hence lost the chance of a lifetime. The love of her life had eloped with his cousin, three days to their wedding. And her mother had a stroke shortly thereafter.

The man who was now shaving in the bathroom of their hotel room had spotted her at the hospital, while she cared for her mother. He wouldn’t rest on his oars until she agreed to be his wife, immediately conferring her with the erstwhile vacant position of vice-chairman in his group of farms.

The bathroom door opened and she turned. “Good morning, chérie,” he beamed. She smiled again, walked towards him and wrapped him with the warmest embrace. “Bonjour chéri.”

She was happy. True, she didn’t know what the future would bring and yes, she had been to the abyss and back but she knew that between missed opportunities and better outcomes, there was hope and despair, calm and disquiet, soreness and wellness, tears and  laughter. There was penury, want, loneliness. There was harsh reality. And then, there was life!

Absence makes the heart….

The cold evening breeze slapped his face as he ventured into the alley. He hoped at least that his longer strides and faster pace would get him to the train station a few minutes earlier than usual. He worked nights in a dance club as a bouncer – a job that barely met his needs.

The colored lights that twinkled thru the windows of the buildings nearby were not enough distraction. December’s festivities were virtually nonexistent for him now. All he longed for was home.

His wife Nneka had called from Nigeria to say she wanted out of their 4-year old marriage. It was a sham, she thought and didn’t anymore want to be part of the charade. He had pleaded for patience. More time.  ”Till when?” she had yelled in frustration over the telephone before bursting into tears. He fell silent. The truth is, he didn’t have the answer. He still needed to get his ”papers” so that he could legalize his stay. A snort escaped through his nostrils. He didn’t even have enough to buy his plane ticket back home.

Life as an illegal immigrant was not as simple as that of others. His daily worries were not the same as those of the average citizen. He had to bother about getting and keeping a job. He had to deal with exploitation from dishonest emoloyers – immigrants themselves – who cashed in on his situation to cheat him on wages. He was concerned with how to avoid getting nabbed by the authorities and being repatriated. He could not hold an apartment in his name or register assets in his  own name! What was life without the  freedom to live?

As he entered the warm interior of the train station, a team of three policemen on patrol walked past him. He became more cautious then, heaving an audible sigh of relief when he was certain that he was not the object of their considerations.

Then the thought struck him. As the train halted, he was greeted by the rush hour flux of workers exiting the train and returning home. A mischievous smile spread briefly across his face. One of these people would soon pay him some heed! He deliberately walked into a fair-skinned man, who didn’t waste time to give him a piece of his mind.

“Mais putain! Are you blind or what? Do you need magnifying glasses or something, Monsieur?”

“Excusez-moi mon gars. My eyes are fine alright but you really were so tiny, even a clairvoyant couldn’t have seen you.”

Whack! came the slap across his face. Whack! he retorted.

Spectacle created. Cops appeared on the scene. Handcuffs snapped tightly around his wrists. Things had played out just the way he wanted. Not without a few bruises though. His belly was hurting so badly.

A few hours later, he was seated in the comfortable interior of a cell in the police station. His case had been decided. He would be put on the next day’s flight to Lagos. A wry smile spread across his face. He’d be home at last! Home to be with his wife and the 3-year old daughter he had never held in his arms.

In the days when he was ignorant, he’d have sworn that absence made the heart grow fonder.  Now he was certain: absence makes the heart grow number. This was definitely true for Nneka, in whose case, also, absence had probably made the heart wander. And if he was foolish enough not to know what and who mattered most, it was certain that absence had made his mind grow dumber.

Lifted Veils

He lifted her veil
Spirit afloat
Plunged into the abyss
Of her soul divine
Through eternal gateways
Ethereal eyes
Uncharted territories
Discovering
Unearthed secrets
Unearthing
E’en for a moment
The first of many happinesses

She ”lifted his veil”
In total surrender
Sweetly revealing
His inmost weakness
Gently commanding
To yield of his ego
Softly burrowing
The masculine defense
Uprooting truths
Erstwhile entrenched
Saintly secrets that
Will never stay the same

Abide With Me

Image courtesy http://desireu.co.uk

The Beginning.
No, you’re not The Beginning
But you are the beginning
Of my joys and happinesses
They start with you

The End.
No, you’re not The End
But you are the end of my miseries
Before you they die the death

The Eternal
No, you’re not The Eternal
But I bid thee
Abide with me a lifetime

And never!
Of us asunder
Never try to ponder

The only place I call home

I’m journeying back to the place – your heart

The only room whose doors never closed

I’m driving thru these streets – your ways

They hold familiar fondest memories

I’m totally trusting my tour guide – your hands

They work me thru the basics of the neighborhood

We come to a rare attraction – the scar

The unsavory relic of our breakup fight

Just across is the post office – your ears

In it I dropped every letter formed on my lips

I cannot forget the clinic – your bosom

It gave me the best therapy, second to none

I try to take a quick shot at the park – your mind

It inspired the best games ever

Finally, I stand at the door of your heart. You open.

Your eyes ask a million unbelieving times: Are you back for real, for good?

I murmur a thousand shameful yeses

I never should have broken this heart

The only place that ever was home

Revenge. Really?

His laughter pierced across the room, above the noise of the television, clinking glasses and loud chatter in the bar room. Some of the occupants simply threw a quick glance in his direction and immediately went back to their business. Others got quite curious at the lone stranger’s mien. This wasn’t a regular face in this bar.

The middle-aged man, whose vocal chords had just commanded attention, had a newspaper in his hands and was clearly unaware of the twenty something pairs of eyes that looked in his direction. He emptied his glass in one last big gulp that burned its way down his throat and into his stomach and slammed the glass back hard on the table.

The laughter suddenly disappeared and he became pensive. .

A few minutes passed and I walked up to him. It did not seem that he was aware of my presence so I tapped the table lightly, at the time saying, “hello buddy.”

From his startled response, it was obvious that I had snapped him out of some memory lane he had plunged deep into. The ruffled hair, undone tie hanging loosely around his neck, eyes that looked like they needed a year-long sleep…., my eyes took all of him in.

“Hello,” I said again, hoping he’d at least return my greeting. Silence. Something was obviously stuck in his throat I cynically decided and was about to make towards my chair, when my eyes caught something – a tear. He had been crying! Silently!

That drew me back. As I tried to reach out to him, he withdrew, at the same time standing up to his feet. I stood up too, to be in equal measure. Perhaps he saw the question in my eyes, for he inched closer to me, his forefinger poking my chest in rhythm to his parting words. He said, “Not when you love her buddy. NOT-WHEN-YOU-FREAKING-LOVE-HER!”

Was he drunk? I didn’t think so. Was he reciting a poem? That could hardly be explained by the tear sliding freely down his cheeks, nor by the reddened eyes.

He turned towards the door and walked out of it into the cold dark street. I decided to take a look at whatever it was that he had been reading, and there it was – the answer to my question.

Slightly above where his tear had fallen on the ‘Quotable Quotes’ column of the newspaper, I saw the marked out words that I was seeking.

It read, “When a man steals your wife, there is no better revenge than to let him keep her.”

Now, you tell me, is it really the best revenge?

Finding my way to Forgiveness

I couldn’t go back to her. Didn’t know how to. After 47 months of separation from my wife Sue, how could I possibly ask her to take me back? It was comforting to know that she didn’t remarry or get into another relationship but then maybe she didn’t want to. Didn’t need to. Not after I abandoned her and my kids without explanation. How she must hate me!

I knew she was angry. It was obvious from her zillion messages to my inbox back then, that she was seething with anger, which I had ignored. At the time, I dismissed them as the ranting of an angry woman but if I were in her shoes, I’d probably have done much worse.
I noticed the sweat on my palms and my heart racing so I decided to sit, all the while asking myself how on earth I drifted away from those that mattered most to me. It all started with a brief moment of weakness (or lustful greed when I look back now). I tasted infidelity and wanted it over and over again. I couldn’t just stop, the lure was overpowering, uh!

Suddenly the bible story swept through my mind, of Jacob and Esau* and how they became reunited after animosities threw them apart for many years. I’d write her a letter I decided. No emails, no calls, just write. I wanted her to see and feel my regret as she read. I was prepared to do anything to make it up to her, gosh! How had she managed with my littluns all these years? Not even a dime from me in support of their upkeep. And come think of it, she didn’t even take up the case with Child Welfare! “You’re completely useless Istvan,” was all I could say to myself. “Your case is pathetic. How can you throw love like this away?

I waited for 2 long weeks, in the hopes that I’d get a reply to my letter. I was ready for any kind of response, anything at all except silence. But nothing came. So I decided again to write, this time ordering some flowers in accompaniment. Still nothing. I’m not sure how many letters I wrote after that but when I came to my wits end, I knew it was time to do the brave thing – walk up to her door and say how truly sorry I was, for everything. I’d understand if she didn’t want me back but I had to let her know how truly sorry I was.

When I rang the bell, I did not know what sort of reception I would get. It took a while for the door to open but when it did, I saw in an instant all the array of emotions on her face: shock, fear, uncertainty, not so much of joy but  I was unsure if there was still some anger lurking somewhere in those glassy eyes. I imagined she would slam the door shut and then reappear within seconds with a glass bottle aimed at my head or even a knife….

Something of a million years passed before I finally picked up the courage to speak. She had grayed a bit, lost some weight too but it was obvious from the wrinkle lines now forming on her face that it was a lot for her to bear. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. I wanted to reach out and comfort this hurting woman but I was just hung…..my voice was heavy. I got on my knees not trusting them to bear my weight any longer…. My body shook in uncontrolled spasms as I just poured out myself, my stupidities, my regrets, everything. Would I ever be able to right the wrongs?

Then I saw her fall on her knees too, right in front of me. She held me, looked into my eyes, her frail gaze holding mine. “I read every one of the letters,” she began, “every one of them; but my heart was too heavy and my hand….. couldn’t hold the weight of a pen…..” This time it was my turn to hold her as she gave way to all emotion. She had every right to, even though by far, she was the stronger one and I was a coward, more than I had cared to admit.

I held her for a long time, knowing from then on, that holding her forever was all I wanted to do.

 

*The account of Jacob and Esau’s reunion can be found in Genesis Chapter 32:11-20 & Chapter 33:1-11